The Bell - Iris Murdoch [87]
When she was near enough for him to focus his distracted glance upon her face he saw that she was smiling. His hand dropped from the gate and he stepped back automatically out of the cemetery. She followed him, closing the gate behind her, and they faced each other in the alley.
'Good morning,' said the nun. 'I believe you must be Toby. Have I guessed right?'
'Yes,' said Toby, hanging his head.
They began to walk slowly back together between the trees. 'I thought so,' said the nun. 'Although we never meet, we seem to know each one of you, as if you were our dearest friends,' The nun seemed quite at her ease. Toby was in an agony of embarrassment and alarm.
'I expect our little cemetery gave you quite a surprise?' said the nun.
'It did!' said Toby.
'It's a beautiful place, don't you think?' said the nun. 'It's so cosy and enclosed, rather like a dormitory I sometimes think. It's nice to know that one will sleep there oneself one day."
'It's beautiful, yes,' said Toby, desperate.
They passed under a large cedar tree from whose spreading lower branches Toby noticed something hanging. It was a swing. Involuntarily he reached out his hand as he neared it and touched the rope.
'It's a fine swing,' said the nun. Her voice was by now betraying her as Irish. 'Why not try it? It would cheer the old swing up. We sometimes do ourselves.'
Toby hesitated. Then blushing violently he sat in the swing and urged himself several times to and fro. The nun stood by smiling.
Mumbling something Toby got out of the swing. He was ready to run, to dive into the ground. Averting his head he walked on beside the nun, who was still talking, until they reached the gate in the enclosure wall.
The nun opened the gate.
‘It wasn't locked!' said Toby with surprise.
'Why, we never bother with locking the gates!' said the nun. 'I expect you enjoyed your climb. Young boys are forever climbing things.' Beaming she swung the gate open. Toby stepped through and for a moment they looked at each other through the gateway. Toby felt he ought to apologize and struggled for the words.
‘I'm sorry,' he said, 'I know I oughtn't to have come in.'
'Don't be after worrying,' said the nun. ‘They say that curiosity killed the cat, but I never believed it when I was your age. Besides, we have a special rule which says that children can sometimes come into the enclosure.' She closed the gate between them and it seemed to Toby that her smile lingered on the outside of the gate for a second or two after it clicked shut. He turned to face the avenue.
All was silent. No one had seen his entry and no one had seen his ignominious exit. He began to run down the avenue, anxious to get as far away as possible from the dangerous and it now seemed to him even more impregnable enclosure. He felt ridiculous, humiliated, and ashamed. He ran with his head down saying, 'Damn, damn, damn' to himself as he went along.
He emerged panting into the open grassland by the drive, and as he crossed it he saw the Land-Rover come sweeping in through the gates. His heart had time to give one violent jump; but the next moment he saw that it was Mark Strafford and not Michael who was at the wheel.
When he saw Toby, Mark slowed down and called out, 'Give you a lift? We're nearly late for lunch.'
Toby climbed in beside Mark and tried, as they drove round towards the house, to make coherent replies to his remarks about the tiresomeness of people in the market at Cirencester. They stopped on the gravel in front of the steps and Mrs Mark at once came bustling up to them, asking her husband if he had remembered all the shopping.
Toby said to her, 'You don't happen to know where Dora is just now, do you?'
Mrs Mark turned her round shining face on him portentously. 'You don't know?' she said. 'Mrs Greenfield has left us. She's gone back to London.'
CHAPTER 14
Dora Greenfield was lying in bed. It was the morning of the same day. Paul had been making love to her. Now he was gone to his work. Dora had submitted